Crossroads
by Ladies of the Isle
Summary: The Valar attempt to redeem Morgoth through reincarnating him without his memories. Fëanor and Maedhros also return, in search of Maglor and their own redemption. AU
1. Prologue

**Crossroads**

**Prologue**

**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything from Lord of the Rings, the Silmarillion, or any other works by Tolkien or anyone affiliated with him in any way, shape or form and we are not making any money or other profit from this fan fiction

**Summary:** The Valar attempt to redeem Morgoth through reincarnating him without his memories. Fëanor and Maedhros also return, in search of Maglor and their own redemption

**Warning(s):** Spoilers for most of the works related to Lord of the Rings; lots of violence; torture and other dark stuff in later chapters

**Pairing:** Maedhros/Eldarion; later Maedhros/Morgoth - slash

**Author's Note:** This is a Morgoth redemption story, so if that is something you have no interest in or don't think could ever happen, please stop reading now. Also, there are two of us writing this fan fiction and one of us is currently attending college, so although we have every intention of completing this story, it might take a little while

* * *

The darkness pressed in on all sides, but it wasn't the darkness that bothered him so much as the silence. He didn't know how long he'd been here. It could have been a week... It could have been an Age.

For the most part, he was filled with an almost blinding rage towards... everything, really. Eru; the Valar; Arda itself; Fëanor and his accursed brood... actually, all of the children of Ilúvatar. When the rage faltered, all he felt was empty inside... as empty as the Void itself.

There was a gradual increase in light all around; light that burned his eyes as it grew in intensity. Shapes began to form within the light, so bright that he had to shield himself with his hand. Still, the light pierced through, strong enough to make his eyes water.

Even after the light faded away, there were still black spots in his vision. He didn't move his hand, though. If he didn't acknowledge them, maybe they would go away.

"Melkor."

Morgoth lowered his hand and glared at the Valar. "I haven't been Melkor for more than an Age."

Manwë moved into view. "I will always know you as Melkor... brother."

Morgoth recoiled sharply. "Don't call me that!"

Manwë stood his ground. "I haven't called you anything but what you are."

"You're a fool, Manwë. You always have been."

Tulkas stepped forward, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "You're in no position to hurl insults."

Morgoth almost sneered at him. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of any respect. "But hurling insults is the only entertainment I have here."

"Enough of this, both of you," Manwë said. "Melkor, we have decided what is to be done with you."

Morgoth quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you'd already done that." He couldn't keep the bitter note out of his voice. What could they do to him that was worse than this? And the peoples of Arda thought them kind.

Manwë shook his head. "We've had you held here until your fate could be decided."

"And what fate would that be? Have you finally discovered a way to destroy me?"

"We've certainly tried," Tulkas muttered, earning himself a sharp look from Manwë.

This time, it was Varda who stepped forward. Her radiance made it even more difficult for Morgoth to look at her. "We are here to give you a chance to redeem yourself."

Morgoth laughed - a harsh, bitter sound that echoed through the Void, only to return to his own ears. He winced as it reverberated through his skull. "Why would I want that? I will never bow down to your rule." He looked straight at Manwë with a twisted grimace. "If I ever get free, you have to know I will do everything within my power to destroy this world you have created."

"If you have no memory of Morgoth, you would not be able to even fathom such a thing," Manwë said.

Morgoth narrowed his eyes. "And where did you get the power to do such a thing, Manwë?"

Manwë's gaze caught and held Morgoth's. "You will be taken to the Halls of Mandos."

Morgoth didn't need to hear anymore. Wrenching his eyes from Manwë's, he lurched backwards and away from the Valar. Although he knew he wouldn't get very far, he certainly wasn't going to go along quietly and meekly.

The next moment, Morgoth heard movement behind him. He tried to throw himself to one side, but his foot gave way and he was tackled down. He lay there, winded, with Tulkas on top of him, but quickly caught his breath. "I didn't know you felt this way, Tulkas. Whatever will Nessa say?"

Tulkas' face darkened and he raised his fist.

"Tulkas," Nessa said, stepping forward and taking his hand.

Tulkas relaxed, but his eyes never left Morgoth. "I'm going to look forward to seeing you suffer."

"You're going to have a long wait," Morgoth responded.

* * *

As Maedhros looked around, he realised he was in an area of the Halls he hadn't explored before. As was usually the case, he'd been so caught in his memories that he hadn't paid any attention to where he was going. It seemed like he was always lost inside his own head now. Even his brothers couldn't pull him out of the black despair that plagued him. Perhaps if Maglor were here, things might not have seemed so bleak. Then again, maybe Maglor would have been experiencing the same darkness.

"There you are." The familiar voice came from behind Maedhros.

Maedhros sighed, but didn't turn round. "I'd rather be alone for a time, Father."

"You've been alone far too long, Nelyafinwë," Fëanor said, coming round to stand in front of his son. "You can gain nothing from dwelling on the past, only by acting to change the future."

Maedhros shook his head. "We can do nothing to influence the future while we are here." He reflected that gaining physical form and returning to the world of the living wouldn't be allowed. Even if it was, who would ever trust them?

"If you feel that strongly, then perhaps we could petition the Valar to allow us to return to Middle-earth," Fëanor suggested.

Maedhros looked at his father, startled to hear his own thoughts coming from the other's mouth. "Do you really believe they'll allow us to return?"

Fëanor met his son's gaze. "I intend to make that request anyway, to see if I can find Maglor."

"How do you expect to persuade the Valar to permit us to leave?" Maedhros asked.

"I plan to make whatever oath they ask of me. My only goal is to find your brother and bring him safely back to us. I think the Valar would understand. After all, he has attempted to make amends."


	2. Chapter One

**Crossroads**

**Chapter One**

It was disconcerting, to say the least, to be back in Middle-earth.

Maedhros didn't know exactly what his father had said to the Valar, but they had agreed to allow Fëanor and Maedhros to find Maglor - although both of them had been warned not to interfere with any of the peoples of Arda, otherwise they would be forced back to Mandos, whether or not they succeeded in finding Maglor.

Of course, Maedhros - at least - was starting to give up hope of finding his brother easily. He and his father had been searching the coast for nigh on a year now, with no sign of Maglor, whether alive or of his spirit.

Fëanor was beginning to worry his son. Maedhros woke during the night, not sure at first what had woken him. Gradually, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness and realised his father was no longer sleeping next to him.

Maedhros felt a stab of panic and pushed himself to his feet, instantly alert. As he reached for his sword, he recalled that he had both hands now and used them to grip the hilt tightly, eyes darting around as he tried to calm his breathing.

Seeing a form by the water's edge, Maedhros felt a faint stab of hope that was quickly extinguished when he realised it was his father. Lowering his sword, but not returning it to its sheath, he stepped to Fëanor's side. "Can't you sleep?"

"He's not here." Fëanor spoke without looking at him.

"You don't know that," Maedhros protested quietly.

"I know Maglor. He isn't here. Not anymore."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Maedhros finally put his sword away, aware he didn't need it at the moment.

"We need to look for him elsewhere. I've given it some thought and I believe it's possible he has gone to Minas Tirith if he still lives. After all, Elrond's daughter is wed to the King of Gondor. Most of the elves from Imladris have sailed West, but if Maglor was looking for someone familiar, he'd be likely to try to see one of Elrond's children."

Maedhros didn't speak the words, aloud, but he silently added, _if his mind is still his own._ He was more concerned with where his father's mind was going. "We swore an oath not to interfere with anything in Arda. We're only here to find Maglor."

"That's what we're going to do," Fëanor replied. "We don't have to reveal our identities in Minas Tirith."

"I'm going to have to disguise myself, then," Maedhros said. "I imagine there aren't many elves with red hair around." As he spoke, he considered his options. There were plants around that might possibly darken his hair, but his knowledge of herbs had never been very extensive, despite Maglor's attempts to educate him. He was also reasonably certain that his father knew even less than he did.

A hooded cloak would have some advantages, but all it would take would be a gust of wind to make that fail. It seemed a scarf wrapped tightly around his head would be the best choice.

"We'll have to use different names."

Maedhros was pulled out of his thoughts and glanced at his father. "Did you have any suggestions?"

"I would choose the name Edlen for myself," Fëanor answered.

There was silence for a few moments. Maedhros wasn't sure how to break it. Somehow, he'd never thought about how his father felt about all this. Perhaps it was a sign he was so caught up in his own pain and grief.

Fëanor was the one to finally speak. "Perhaps you should use the name Delgaren," he suggested.

"I'm sure you would want to describe me as a horror, but I think the colour might be a giveaway." Maedhros smiled, feeling the tension was broken. He thought carefully, but there was really only one name that seemed to suit how he felt. "I think I will use the name Mithron."

Fëanor studied his face, but made no comment on his choice of name, though sadness briefly showed in his expression. "Are we agreed, then?"

Maedhros still wasn't sure he really liked this whole plan, but he nodded anyway. If he said no, he had the feeling he would wake to find his father gone anyway. At least this way, he should be able to limit any damage that might be caused.

* * *

Maedhros rode up to the main gates of Minas Tirith alongside his father. Although they were open, there were armoured guards standing at attention to either side. Maedhros raised a hand to check that no locks of hair had escaped the scarf he wore and was relieved to find none had.

Realising that Fëanor was looking at him, Maedhros lowered his hand and gave a nod. He might look strange with a scarf wrapped around his head, but it was better than the alternative.

Fëanor tugged lightly back on the reins of his horse, bringing the animal to a stop in front of the guards.

One of the guards, an older human with grey streaks in his dark hair, took a step forward as the two elves dismounted. "What business do you have in Minas Tirith?"

"I wish to request an audience with the King," Fëanor answered. "I am seeking one of my sons and I held some hope he might be here."

One of the other guards, a much younger human, also stepped forward. "The King only grants audiences tomorrow from the seventh hour. You should be able to find lodging within the city, as well as a stable for your horses."

Fëanor inclined his head politely in thanks before turning to Maedhros. He didn't speak to his son, though, and simply motioned for him to follow him through the gates.

Inside the city, although it was late in the afternoon, there were huge crowds of people thronging the streets. Loud, raucous calls came from either side as vendors shouted for people to view their wares. After the calm peace of the Halls of Mandos and the tranquillity of the coast, the sights and sounds here were almost too much for Maedhros to bear. He began to feel uncomfortably warm, the heat and the dust being absorbed into his heavy travelling clothes.

After a little while, Maedhros felt something pushed into his hands and realised they were standing in shade. Glancing down, he saw that he held a waterskin in his hands and then looked apologetically at his father. "I didn't realise how being here would affect me."

"It's very different here," Fëanor agreed. "Don't be ashamed of feeling overwhelmed."

Maedhros nodded his thanks and raised the waterskin to his lips, drinking deeply. He forced himself to stop before the water was all gone and held it out to his father.

Fëanor shook his head. "You should keep it. We've still got a way to go."

Maedhros frowned, concerned for his father, and continued to hold the waterskin out. "I can't imagine you're feeling any better than I am and I'm not sure I could guide you and the horses if it came to that."

A faintly amused look came over Fëanor's face. He reached for the waterskin and drank some for himself.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter Two

**Crossroads**

**Chapter Two**

**Author's Note:** This probably doesn't need to be said, but just to make it clear - there will be no romantic interaction between characters until they're of age

* * *

By the time Maedhros and his father reached the fifth circle of the city, Maedhros knew they were both quite exhausted. They'd had to leave their horses in stables in the first circle after Maedhros had recovered from the heat and it had been necessary for them to purchase more waterskins.

Maedhros wasn't sure how the humans managed this.

Fëanor glanced at Maedhros, as if to check on him, before walking towards the nearest inn. Maedhros followed a little more slowly, relieved that it wasn't as hot further up. Still, it would be nice to get inside and perhaps have something more substantial to eat and drink. He wasn't sure if it was possible to starve an elf who had come from the Halls of Mandos, but he didn't want to test that.

Inside the inn, the air was tainted with pipe smoke. Maedhros coughed politely into his sleeve, but his father didn't seem to be affected as he walked over to the innkeeper.

Maedhros stayed back, taking a moment to glance around. It was substantially cooler inside, probably because most people were at the markets. Maedhros removed his cloak, folding it and laying it over his arm. He saw a few people - humans, mostly - gathered around tables, but didn't make eye contact with anyone.

Fëanor walked back over to Maedhros. "I've paid for a room and a meal. It's only for tonight - I'm not sure how long we'll need it for."

Maedhros nodded, understanding why his father had only paid for one room. Maedhros didn't share Fëanor's distrust of humans, but he didn't feel very comfortable being in an inn filled with them.

He just hoped that the innkeeper was cleaner than most humans.

* * *

The sunlight streaming in through the window was what woke Maedhros. He squinted and raised his arm to shield his eyes, pushing himself up from the scratchy blankets.

Fëanor was clothed already and just pulling his boots on. Maedhros dressed quickly, pulling his clothes on over skin that itched in places. He suspected that the bed hadn't been cleaned properly and that the previous occupant had been riddled with lice. Grimacing slightly, he scratched his scalp, silently promising himself a good bath later.

Maedhros didn't particularly want to pull his scarf back on over his head, but leaving it within the saddlebags would mean wearing it at all was pointless. Swearing an oath to himself to give his clothes a good wash as well, he wrapped the scarf around his head, making sure all locks of hair were tucked out of view.

If his father was suffering any discomfort, Fëanor showed no sign of it. As soon as Maedhros was completely ready, he picked up his share of the packs and strode towards the door.

Maedhros gingerly picked up the remaining packs, considering wiping them on the walls. A closer look at the surfaces convinced him to wait until he was outside. Holding the packs at arm's length, he followed Fëanor out of the room.

* * *

After having discussed it, Maedhros and Fëanor decided it would be better if only one of them attended the audience. Maedhros wasn't quite sure he wanted it to be his father, but he consoled himself with the thought that Fëanor's main goal was finding Maglor. He just hoped that the Valar would step in if his father came close to breaking the oath they had made. He would have preferred at least one of his brothers to be there as support, but unfortunately, the Valar hadn't wanted to release any more of the Fëanorians.

Maedhros was now waiting in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. It was relatively peaceful, even for being one of the busiest times of the day. He'd managed to find a secluded area and was considering removing his scarf and washing his hair with water from the fountain. He didn't think any lice remained on him, but he'd rather feel clean - or at least as clean as he could be, under the circumstances.

Removing the scarf brought with it a sense of relief. Maedhros ran his fingers through his hair to get the tangles out and then reached into one of the bags for a wooden cup.

The sound of a twig cracking alerted Maedhros to the presence of someone else. He turned as he heard a slight intake of breath.

Standing behind him was a tall boy of maybe eight years. His black hair was slightly over-long, falling into large grey eyes. He had angular features, suggesting elvish heritage. He was clothed in simple but finely made attire. His attention seemed to be focused on Maedhros' hair.

Quite quickly, Maedhros realised that, even if the boy had seen an elf before, he wouldn't have seen one with red hair. He was tempted to put the scarf back in place, but the damage had been done.

"I'm sorry for staring," the boy said, shifting his gaze to Maedhros' face. "I haven't seen an elf with red hair before."

"It's not very common," Maedhros replied, slightly amused. He didn't relax, though. He shouldn't have let this guard down. This child seemed harmless enough, but what if it had been someone else? "Are you in need of healing?"

The boy shook his head, looking almost solemn. "My older sisters came to assist the healers."

"Why aren't you with them?" Maedhros asked.

The boy looked a bit sheepish. "I wasn't really supposed to come here. My parents say that I'm not ready to help yet."

"Where are your parents?"

"They're at the Citadel. What's your name?" the boy asked, quite obviously changing the subject.

Maedhros was tempted to question the boy further, but since he had his own things to hide, he didn't push for more information. "Mithron," he answered. "What's yours?"

"Eldarion."

Maedhros extended a hand to him. "Well met," he said formally, but a teasing note crept into his voice.

Eldarion smiled and clasped Maedhros' hand. "Well met," he responded in turn.

Maedhros released Eldarion's hand. "How many sisters do you have?"

"I have four," Eldarion answered. "Mireth and Meril are twins. Calessel is the baby - and Luineth is three years younger than me. Do you have any sisters?"

"I only have brothers - and six of them."

"I wish I had a brother," Eldarion said. "Girls are boring." He stepped over to the fountain.

Maedhros noticed he limped slightly and wondered if he'd sprained his ankle. Still, if it was anything serious, they were at the Houses of Healing. "Brothers can be more trouble than they're worth. I think I would have liked a sister or two."

"If you had them, you wouldn't say that," Eldarion replied. He sat on the edge of the fountain and trailed his hand in the water. "Are your family here?"

Maedhros shook his head. "Five of my brothers are back home. My father and I are here looking for my younger brother."

"Did he run away?" Eldarion asked.

"I'm not sure," Maedhros admitted. "The last we knew, he was at the coast. My father is going to request aid of the King and Queen." Realising he still held the wooden cup in his hand, he stepped over to the fountain and dipped it into the water.

"Are you thirsty?"

"I need to wash my hair. I spent the night in an inn and it wasn't a particularly clean one."

"That sounds like fun."

"What does? Spending the night in an inn or that it wasn't clean?"

"Spending the night," Eldarion answered, as if it were obvious. "I've never been to an inn before, though my father used to stay in them a lot."

"You aren't missing out on much." As he spoke, Maedhros poured the water over his head. He would prefer to use soap, but he would have to make do for now. Still, it took several more cups of water until he decided it was enough - at least for now.

"Your hair doesn't look as bright now," Eldarion said. "Maybe you should put it in a braid until it dries."

"I have a scarf." Maedhros wound it round his head again, making sure all his hair was tucked underneath it.

Eldarion checked the position of the sun and clambered down from the fountain, steadying himself with a hand on its surface. "I have to go home. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"If my father and I are still here, I'm sure I can come again tomorrow." Maedhros smiled at the boy.

Eldarion returned the smile and raised one hand in a wave. "I'll see you then." He headed towards the gate to the seventh circle, moving quickly in spite of his limp.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter Three

**Crossroads**

**Chapter Three**

Maedhros was sitting on the edge of the fountain, listening to nature's sounds around him. After a little while, another sound intruded. The footsteps weren't loud, but he recognised them as belonging to his father.

As Fëanor came into view, Maedhros stood up. "Were you able to discover anything?"

"There has been no sign of Maglor in the city," Fëanor answered. "But we have been given leave to stay for a time, until we can decide on another course of action."

Maedhros wrinkled his nose slightly in distaste at the thought of returning to that filthy, lice-infested inn. "Are there any inns suitable for elves to stay in?" Surely there _must_ be. After all, they would hardly be the only elves visiting.

"I already thought of that," Fëanor replied. "There are more suitable inns for us not far from here."

Maedhros nodded, already wondering where the nearest forges were. If they were going to stay in Minas Tirith for a time, they would need to find some work.

* * *

Maedhros could see why this inn was so much more suitable for elves. The room he and his father were sharing now had been cleaned nearly to elven standards. He doubted he would have to face another infestation of lice.

"Do you prefer this one?" Fëanor asked with a trace of amusement.

Maedhros nodded, reflecting that it seemed his father had never been concerned with getting himself dirty. Maedhros had been in unpleasant conditions before, but those were usually in battle. When he had a choice, he was like many other elves. "Do you know where the nearest forges are yet?"

"I've already spoken to several smiths throughout the city about doing some work in one of their forges," Fëanor answered. "They've agreed to look at some of my work."

Maedhros hoped his father wouldn't get too annoyed if the Gondorian smiths didn't like his creations. After all, humans didn't always appreciate the art of elves. "After the noon meal tomorrow, I'll see if I can find any work for myself."

"Are you tired enough to sleep for the whole morning, then?" Fëanor teased.

Maedhros felt a smile creep across his face. He barely remembered a time he'd had his father to himself. As much as he missed his brothers, he and his father had grown apart long ago and Maedhros couldn't be sorry for this chance to mend things between them. "I've got a very important meeting to get to in the morning."

"Have you found a woman to interest you already, then?"

Maedhros shook his head. "I made friends with a human child. I promised I'd meet him tomorrow morning."

"Well, you shouldn't break a promise," Fëanor said. "We can break our fast together and then fulfil each of our obligations."

* * *

As Maedhros reached the area where he'd met Eldarion the day before, he was a little surprised to see the boy already there, apparently waiting for him. When Maedhros stepped into view, Eldarion turned to greet him with a big smile.

"Have you been waiting long?" Maedhros asked.

Eldarion shrugged. "I managed to sneak away quite quickly."

"Are you still reluctant to tell anyone where you're going?"

"I didn't think you'd want me to announce your presence here," Eldarion answered. "I found out people don't think well of Fëanorians. Are you Maedhros?"

Maedhros couldn't say he was surprised. He was just relieved his father wasn't here for this revelation. "You haven't told anyone about this?" From Eldarion's words, he assumed not, but he wanted to be sure.

Eldarion shook his head. "Are your other brothers still in Mandos?"

"Apart from Maglor."

"I hope you're able to find him," Eldarion said. "I wouldn't like to lose one of my sisters. Do you miss your other brothers as well?"

"I do - but I know, at least, that they're safe."

Eldarion opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a human woman came crashing through the garden. Maedhros winced, hoping she wasn't crushing too many plants, and glanced at Eldarion in time to see the boy roll his eyes and sigh.

"_There_ you are, your highness," the woman said, looking quite flustered as she came to Eldarion's side and gave Maedhros a suspicious look. "This is the second day you've sneaked out of your lessons and you know how important it is for the future king to be well-educated."

"Future king?" Maedhros said, mildly.

"Well, now you know who I am," Eldarion said. He looked innocently up at the woman and clasped his hands in front of his chest, looking the very image of a well-behaved child. "I'm sorry I left. I wanted to see what my sisters were doing."

"You shouldn't try to grow up too fast," the human scolded. She looked at Maedhros, but addressed Eldarion. "You can always ask your parents to invite him to the citadel if you want to see him again."

"Farewell, Mithron," Eldarion said. "I'll see you again. Soon."

As the human pulled Eldarion away, Maedhros lifted a hand in farewell. "I'm sure we'll see each other again... Aradhel," he said.

Eldarion's eyes widened and then he blushed as he disappeared from view.

**TBC**


End file.
